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“I shouldn’t have—”
“Because of Appleby?” he scoffed. “Why are you so loyal to such a man?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You sound as if you hate him.”
She sounded surprised, and he in turn was surprised that she wouldn’t expect him to hate such a man. Of course he hated Appleby! Hadn’t His Lordship told her his plans? But perhaps he hadn’t. And Antoinette didn’t know she was speaking to Gabriel Langley, the victim of Appleby’s vengeful plot. In her eyes he was nothing but a thief.
Perhaps it was time he explained.
“The letter—” Gabriel began.
“I’m tired of the letter!” she burst out. “I’m tired of you, and I’m tired of Lord Appleby. You’re both as bad as each other.”
Gabriel’s heart went cold. I’m not like him. He’s not my father.
“It’s because of the money,” she added quietly, her mouth drooping.
Was that her excuse for siding with Appleby? Money? He understood she had to live, but surely there were other ways?
“You’re right, I do hate him,” Gabriel said harshly. “But it’s not because of the money. I hate him because he has you.”
She looked as surprised as he felt. The words had burst out of him, and now it was too late to take them back. He wanted her. Gabriel told himself that an experienced woman like her probably already knew that, and she would use it against him.
He didn’t care.
He could still feel the brush of her fingers against his flesh through his trousers, tantalizingly close but not close enough. The time for game playing was over.
“Come here Antoinette,” he said, and knew his decision was in his eyes for her to see.
She turned and fled.
Gabriel went after her.
Chapter 15
As Antoinette reached the edge of the clearing, she gave one desperate glance back. It was enough. He was gaining on her. She plunged into the gloomy woods. Her long skirts snagged on twigs and low bushes, and violently she wrenched them free. Behind her she heard him curse as he stumbled, crashing through the undergrowth. Another quick glance behind her showed him several yards away.
Her heart was thudding, a curious mixture of excitement and fear pumping through her veins. She knew she should be terrified of this man and what might happen if he caught her—she’d read the hot desire in his eyes. But she wasn’t. She’d run because she was just as afraid of herself as of him. When he looked at her, the melting sensation inside her body had been warning enough to send her fleeing.
It was either that or fling herself into his arms.
Besides, she was angry with him for making her think he was wounded, and just as angry with herself for letting him see how much it mattered to her.
A tree loomed up in front of her, and at the last moment she darted around it, pushing against the trunk as she passed. She didn’t need to glance behind her this time to know he was closing in.
She’d lost the path through the woods. Now the trees were closer together, and the undergrowth was thicker, catching at her clothing, blocking her way so that she had no choice but to force herself through, or pause long enough to find an alternate route. Far above, through the swaying branches, the sky was darkening. At any second Antoinette expected the storm to break.
On she ran, blindly, praying she was heading for the manor, and that in another moment she’d burst from the woods and find sanctuary.
Or would she? He’d follow her inside. He’d chase her upstai
rs and force open her door. He’d kiss her mouth and touch her skin and…and the truth was…she wanted him to.
Something gripped the back of her skirt and brought her up short. She swung around, fighting, trying to free herself, and promptly slipped over, landing on her back in a soft pile of leaf mulch. The smell of earth and vegetation rose around her, and with it an herbal scent similar to the one she’d detected in the highwayman’s cottage.
Dazed, she looked at her hand, and saw that when she fell she’d grabbed at a nearby plant. The sweet aroma was coming from that.
“Can we stop now?” he pleaded.
